


On the Indisputable Hotness of Hybrid-Electric Vehicles

by slowcookedvig



Category: Glee
Genre: 4.21, 4.22, 5.01, M/M, Missing Scenes, Prius karaoke, Reconciliation, during breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowcookedvig/pseuds/slowcookedvig
Summary: Blaine's Prius is a very practical vehicle. Great mileage. Awesome stereo. Seats that recline quite effectively.Perfect for giving rides to New Yorkers who are back in town...
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	1. Bridge Over Troubled Waters

**Author's Note:**

> I just ran across a fic that mentioned that there was a script for 5.1 that implied that Kurt and Blaine had hooked up in 4.21 or 4.22. Which would solve my confusion about how they managed to go from not-going-to-hook-up to engaged in a very short amount of time. (Though I'm sure it didn't feel like a short amount of time for fans, between the end of season 4 and the beginning of season 5. That... must have been a rough summer, in a lot of ways.)
> 
> And it got me thinking about when and how all the emotional stuff might have happened.
> 
> And then I remembered the Prius.
> 
> Don't know how long this is going to be; I meant for this to be more sex and less angsty romance, but then I started listening to music, and this came out. I'm going to set the rating to Mature, because I fully intend for things to get hotter than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Simon and Garfunkel, the entire Bridge over Troubled Waters album.

"Thanks for the ride," Kurt said, sliding into the front seat of Blaine's Prius. "I didn't realize that Mercedes and Mike were going to work on choreography for the video _now_. As in, _at this moment_."

"Well, you know about inspiration," Blaine said. "Sometimes you just need to act.” He looked at Kurt's hands, playing with the end of his scarf, and remembered the way Kurt had stacked and counted all the sugar packets in the Lima Bean, but hadn't opened a single one. _Inspiration_ , Blaine thought, and reached his hand across the console to gently pull Kurt's away from his scarf. "You're going to pull that apart." Blaine made sure his voice stayed teasing, but he rubbed his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand to take the edge off. "It's going to be ok. Your dad's going to be ok."

Kurt shot him a look. "How can you be sure." He turned away. "You can't. You can't be sure."

"Ok," Blaine backed off. "You can't be sure. But we're here for you. We're all here for you. Mercedes, Mike, Mr. Shue..."

Kurt shook his head. "I've been through this before, you know."

"Right," Blaine said. "When your father had that heart attack." He slipped his fingers under Kurt's palm and rubbed it, just firmly enough to avoid tickling, in the spot where Kurt was especially sensitive. "How did you get through that?"

Kurt breathed out. There was just the tiniest bit of a laugh. "Not well," he admitted. "I very nearly teamed up with Sue Sylvester against the whole glee club."

"Never." Blaine threw his free hand back against his forehead, then reached across Kurt's body to grab Kurt's other hand.

"It's the truth," Kurt laughed.

"Did nearly turning evil help you get through it?" Blaine teased. "Release the tension?"

"I sang," Kurt admitted. "And then I went to church."

"Church? You?" Blaine raised his eyebrows.

"Well, it was Mercedes' church," Kurt said. "And they sang. _Bridge Over Troubled Waters_. It was cathartic."

"Want to sing with me?" Blaine asked. "I'm no Ms. Mercedes Jones, but I can be the Simon to your Garfunkel any time." He tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows at Kurt. "We can sing their entire catalog if you want." He pulled out his iPod and started thumbing through the albums. "I thought I had their whole catalog, at least," he said. "But I've only got the _Bridge Over Troubled Waters_ album. That's supposed to be the best one, anyway." He connected it to his stereo and pressed play.

The first couple songs were slow and emotional, though Blaine hammed up the part of being a sparrow rather than a snail in _El Condor Pasa_ , and got Kurt to giggle at the bit about being a hammer or a nail. By the time they got halfway through _Cecilia_ , Kurt was laughing and belting out the lyrics along with Blaine.

_Whoa Cecilia  
I'm down on my knees  
I'm begging you please  
to come home..._

Somewhere in the clapping and seat dancing, one of them hit the button to recline Kurt's seat. But Kurt pushed the button again and shot back forward. "You've already used that line about the bass sounding better in the back seat with me once, Blaine Anderson," Kurt laughed.

"It was a good line," Blaine argued, remembering an excellent groping session the last time he and Kurt had been in the Prius together. But he relented, and just kept singing. _Keep the Customer Satisfied_ was better for singing loudly than for making out, anyway.

_Gee but it's great to be back home  
home is where I want to be..._

But soon the album segued slower songs on the B side. _The Boxer_. _The Only Living Boy in New York_...

Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes and leaned toward him. Their lips met, slowly, carefully. Paul Simon kept singing on the stereo.

_Half of the time we're gone_   
_But we don't know where,_   
_And we don't know where_

"I should go home," Kurt whispered. "And you should go practice."

 _I thought we already were,_ Blaine thought. But he didn't say anything as he put the Prius into gear and drove the familiar streets back to Kurt's house.

Simon and Garfunkel kept singing as they pulled into Kurt's family's driveway. _Bye Bye Love_ faded into _Song for the Asking_.

_Ask me and I will play_   
_All the love that I hold inside_

And Blaine swore that he would give Kurt as many rides in the Prius as it took, this time.


	2. Takin' it slow (or, you know, maybe not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee. And pizza. That's all that happens. Really. (Cough.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack (musical references, not all played)
> 
> Black Coffee in Bed (Squeeze: https://youtu.be/pUx5z9O2ZGk)  
> Java Jive (Manhattan Transfer: https://youtu.be/0XxsasUHzaQ)
> 
> Plus a Google search for "songs about sleep," which led me down a rabbit-hole of "I'm Only Sleeping" by the Beatles and "Sleep to Dream" by Fiona Apple and "In Dreams" by Roy Orbison and "I Guess I Should Go to Sleep" by Jack White. None of which are lullabies.

"Morning," Kurt said as he opened the Prius's door. He looked... well, Kurt never looked _awful_ to Blaine, but he had dark circles under his eyes.

Blaine considered what to say for a moment. "Did you get any sleep last night?" he finally asked.

Kurt sighed and shook his head. "I've been taking Ambien, but I left it in New York."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Blaine asked. "I mean, you've graduated. You don't have to go to the high school unless you want to."

"I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway," Kurt said. "Dad gets his results back today."

"Ok," Blaine replied. "But we're getting some coffee first." He turned on the car.

"Don't you have a first-period class?" Kurt asked.

"It's Civics," Blaine replied. "The teacher lets me out for 'student council business' all the time. And besides, the Lima Bean has a new kiosk that's on the way. We won't even need to get out of the car."

They drove through the back streets towards the mall, not talking. Blaine's driving-to-school playlist was on a long instrumental track, so they didn't even sing.

At the kiosk, Blaine ordered the coffee, then handed his iPod to Kurt. "Here. You pick the music for the rest of the drive."

"You've got an entire playlist devoted to _coffee_?" Kurt snorted as Blaine added the sugar to his medium-roast drip.

Blaine briefly thanked himself for recently changing the names of those other playlists. "Coffee is the nectar of the gods. Of course people sing about it." He scrolled past _Black Coffee in Bed_ and tapped the next song. "Like this one. Remember, singing along with quartets is awesome..."

"Because there are twice as many parts to choose from," Kurt finished.

Blaine grinned at him.

_I love coffee  
I love tea  
I love the Java Jive  
and it loves me._

Kurt joined in, singing the harmony line, just as Blaine had known he would.

_Coffee and tea  
and the java and me  
a cup a cup a cup a cup...  
(boy!)_

By the time they pulled into the McKinley parking lot, Kurt was seat-dancing, doing his best (completely adorable, at least in Blaine's opinion) coffee pot impression. Blaine let the car sit for long enough for the song to end before shutting it off.

Kurt leaned back and sighed.

"You ok?" Blaine asked.

"Getting there," Kurt said, sitting back up. "Thank you for the pick-me-up." He paused, looking at Blaine, then darted forward.

The kiss - ok, more of a peck than a kiss - landed between Blaine's cheek and his lips. Blaine turned his face, and Kurt breathed out softly, and leaned forward.

And then Blaine's phone chimed. He pulled back and looked at it.

It was Mercedes. _Auditorium. Now._

Before Blaine could get his seatbelt off, his phone chimed again.

_You boys better not be making out in the back of that Prius._

A pause, and then another message. _In the school parking lot..._

Blaine shook his head and put his phone away.

*

"I'm surprised you didn't get a ride home with your dad," Blaine said.

"He and Carole are going to have a romantic dinner," Kurt said, buckling himself in. "And then probably going home to have _'old people sex.'_ "

Blaine started coughing and started the car.

"I mean, if my sweetie's prostrate suddenly turned out to be ok, I'd probably want to do the same." Kurt blinked several times and didn't look at Blaine.

"Umm." Blaine had to blink as well, but more from the memory of his brain shorting out in a hotel room on Valentine's night than from anything else. Yeah, sure, he was a bit shocked to hear Kurt discussing his father's sex life. But. Yeah.

Kurt started playing with the radio station. It was a bit spastic, and out of character, and brought Blaine back to his senses. "Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Kurt said. "I'm ecstatic."

"I know," Blaine said. "It's just... you said you didn't get any sleep last night. You must be exhausted."

"Can't go home," Kurt said. "Need to let Dad and Carole have time together."

"Ok," Blaine said. "Do you want to go get pizza? Or there's a new Chinese place. It's not New York, but it isn't bad for Lima."

"Sure," Kurt said, and yawned.

Blaine looked at him suspiciously. "How long has it been since you've slept? Because I've seen you after an all-nighter. You can go 24 hours without sleep without much trouble."

"Couldn't sleep before the flight," Kurt mumbled. "Didn't want to take Ambien. Would have ended up buying more plane tickets online. Sooo many plane tickets."

"So..." Blaine tried to calculate the time in his head. "It's been what, two nights and three days?"

"And there was the movie night with Rachel and Santana..." Kurt added.

"Four days?" Blaine shook his head. "Kurt. I'm taking you home to bed."

"No bed," Kurt murmured. "Not a hook-up."

Blaine wondered how many hours without sleep someone could go before they started hallucinating. "Ok. How about this. I drive you around for a while. If you fall asleep, that's great. If not, we get pizza or Chinese food or something. Get you home by nine - which should give your parents plenty of time for their old-people-sex..."

"Ugh, don't make me think about it." Kurt hid his face.

Blaine didn't remind Kurt that he was the one who had brought it up first. "I'll get you home by nine. And then you can sleep for as long as you like. Deal?"

Kurt gave an exhausted nod. "Deal."

Blaine put on a playlist titled _'Sleep.'_ Because what is an iPod if you don't have a playlist for every occasion? Though the mixture of the Beatles and Fiona Apple and Roy Orbison and Jack White was maybe not quite the peaceful lullaby that Blaine had intended. Kurt was still jamming in his seat after a half hour.

"Pizza?" Blaine asked. "Or Chinese?"

"You choose," Kurt said.

Which was how Blaine knew that things still weren't quite ok. But he called the pizza place anyway, and ordered a small pie, same mix of meat and vegetables that they always used to get, and drove across town to pick it up. The place was crowded, so Blaine decided to take it out. They could drive down to the park, maybe, and feed half of the crust to pigeons. Lima pigeons probably weren't half as interesting as New York pigeons, Blaine thought, but they still had silly walks and tilted heads and responded to conversations in unpredictable ways. So Blaine made sure to grab a big pile of napkins and a couple paper plates, and then put the pizza box in the back seat and drove down to the park with the all the tables. And yes, that was also the parking lot where kids would go after prom to make out. And yes, he and Kurt had been there after prom. Twice. But it was also a good place to eat pizza.

"Diet coke?" Blaine held out the cup to Kurt.

"Thanks," Kurt said. But he just looked at it.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked.

"Nothing." But Kurt's grin was a little off.

"Still worried?" Blaine asked.

"No," Kurt said. "It's just... you know how when you've been stressed out for so long, your nerves can't even remember what it's like to relax?"

"They're all jangled," Blaine said. "Yes."

"My head keeps going round and round," Kurt said. "Like I can't remember what it was like to just fall asleep."

Blaine nodded. "Remember last year? When we were practicing for Nationals, and you were worried about NYADA? And I was taking the SATs and then all of us were taking AP tests, you in French and Mike in Calculus and Biology and me and Tina and Artie in US History?"

"Oh, god, and Rachel got us those energy drinks because she thought they would help. That was a disaster." Kurt groaned.

"And Mike and I wanted to have a dance-off in the elementary school playground, just to burn off some energy, and Mr. Shue made us swear that we wouldn't dance on the swing set because he knew someone who had _literally_ broken a leg doing that while he was in high school?" Blaine reminisced.

"I had to drag you away from that playground," Kurt remembered. "You were going to do it anyway. Even though your odds of ending up in the hospital with a sprained ego were higher than winning a dance-off against Mike Chang."

"And then we went to your house..." Blaine stopped. "...And... that's how I finally fell asleep."

"I couldn't believe how hard you came." Kurt paused, as if he just realized what they were remembering.

There had been times when Blaine had wanted sex more than that night, after so much studying and practicing. But the feeling of release, and the loose exhaustedness afterwards...

"Kurt." Blaine wasn't quite sure how to phrase this. "You know, if you can't get to sleep. Maybe..."

"I swore," Kurt mumbled. "I swore. No meaningless hookups. Not gonna be tacky."

"I mean, maybe you could go home and, I don't know, take a warm shower and masturbate or something..." Blaine suggested. "Maybe that would help."

"Gotta give Dad and Carole some time," Kurt insisted.

"Ok," Blaine relented. "Look, the pizza's in the back. It'll get cold." He turned to get it, but it was hard to reach it between the seats, so he pressed the button to recline a bit, then rolled over to pull the pizza box towards them. "I got paper plates, too." But the plates had fallen off the side, so Blaine had to reach halfway behind the passenger seat, and then had to wriggle until his entire torso was hanging off the back of his seat.

"Oh. Hello, there," Kurt said.

Blaine glanced back to see that his groin was awkwardly close to Kurt's face. "Oh, ugh, sorry." Blaine was already half-hard from talking about sex, and the position wasn't helping the situation at all. He pulled himself back down and handed Kurt a plate.

Kurt took a breath and reached for the pizza box. "It's fine," he said. "It happens to the best of us."

Blaine snuck a glance at Kurt's lap, but there was a paper plate on it. And then Kurt buried the plate under a pizza slice, and Blaine couldn't tell whether the bulge in the tight orange jeans was any more pronounced than normal. Not that Blaine had been looking at Kurt during the day. Certainly not while singing, or dancing, or...

Ok. Blaine had totally been looking. Even though it was kind of rude and inappropriate to ogle your ex-boyfriend while he was singing to his father. Blaine took a breath of his own and grabbed a slice with green peppers and olives along with the sausage, then took a bite.

"It's not New York pizza," Blaine apologized.

"It's fine," Kurt said. Or probably said. His mouth was full.

They ate quietly for a while. Blaine left his seat reclined and perched on the edge, cross-legged, pizza box balanced on his knees. Kurt finished his slice, then reached for another, and then a third.

"Better?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. "A little," he said, and turned to try to put his plate into the back seat. But he discovered just how difficult it was - really, it wasn't just Blaine that had problems reaching the back - and reclined his seat, as well.

"You can take a nap like that, if you want," Blaine said. "It's still only six-thirty."

Kurt nodded and rolled onto his side, pillowing his head on one of his elbows. Blaine put the pizza box into the back seat, then wiped his hands as quietly as possible.

But after a few minutes, Kurt shrugged, adjusted his arm, and tossed onto his other side. And then tossed back.

"Sorry," Blaine said. "The Prius really isn't that comfortable."

"That's not it." Kurt opened his eyes and looked at Blaine. "I'm still too... what did you call it?"

"Jangled," Blaine said. "Like guitar strings that are out of tune."

"Jangled," Kurt agreed. "That's it." He tried closing his eyes again, then opened one and looked cautiously at Blaine. "Your offer." He stopped. "If it was an offer. Which maybe it wasn't. Maybe I'm reading this entirely wrong."

"It was an offer," Blaine replied. Maybe too eagerly.

"Just to take the edge off," Kurt said.

"Of course," Blaine agreed.

"Ok." Kurt paused. "It doesn't need to be much. Honestly."

Blaine laughed. "Just take off your pants, Kurt." He would have offered to help, but Kurt was doing a pretty good job, even stretched out on a reclined seat in Blaine's car...

So Blaine just swallowed and opened the console to look for the lube. Which no, he didn't want to explain, especially because it was still in the bag with its two-day-old receipt, showing that, yeah, Blaine had gone straight to the pharmacy when he heard Kurt was going to be back in town. And yes, he had bought hair gel too, as an excuse, and hadn't even taken it into the house. But that was not the point.

By the time Blaine had the tube open, Kurt had wriggled out of his pants and underwear, and was lying, quite exposed and fully erect.

"Ready?" Blaine whispered, rubbing his hands together.

Kurt nodded and leaned back. God, every muscle still looked so tense. Blaine wanted to run his hands down Kurt's entire body, until every muscle loosened. But maybe this would be enough.

It was. Kurt tensed as soon as Blaine touched him, arching upward into Blaine's hand. It didn't take long until Kurt moaned something that might have been Blaine's name and released everything.

Blaine sat and watched him for moment. Watched as the exhaustion drained out of his muscles and his face, watched as the pooled semen started to run along the top of Kurt's hips, preparing to drip onto the seat. Kurt just lay back, eyes closed, breathing.

Or. Wait. Was that a snore?

Yes. Kurt was snoring softly. Blaine took a pile of fresh napkins and gently cleaned him off, then reached for the spare blanket that was folded in the back seat. (The Prius was the most practical of vehicles. Fire extinguisher. First aid kit. Flat fixer. And, of course, a McKinley High fleece blanket, ready for anything from a football game to a sleepy post-orgasmic ex-boyfriend.)

Blaine tucked the blanket around Kurt and watched Kurt's lashes flutter against the paleness of his cheeks. And that's when he realized it.

This was what he wanted to see, every night, every morning. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slip me a slug of the wonderful mug  
> 'an I'll cut a rug just as snug in a jug  
> Drop a nickel in the pot joe  
> Takin' it slow
> 
> (Waiter, waiter percolator...)
> 
> (The overlapping groups of music nerds in my high school weren't really into Broadway, but everyone sang along to Manhattan Transfer. Including those of us who played instruments but couldn't really sing at all.)


	3. What happens in the Prius, stays in the Prius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is most definitely not an Elvis chapel in the trunk of Blaine's car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:
> 
> Love Me Tender (Elvis Presley: https://youtu.be/2lD711_Xh8s)

Blaine pulled into the Hummels' driveway, two cups of coffee steaming away in the cup holders.

But it was Kurt's dad who met him. "Kurt's still asleep," he explained. "I didn't want to wake him up."

"Oh," Blaine said. Sleeping was a good sign. But Blaine couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

"Hey, thanks for shuttling him around this week," Burt said. "It's nice to know that he's got a lot of people who care about him."

"I'm happy to help," Blaine said. "Please tell him that I'll give him a ride after school if he needs one."

"I'll do that," Burt replied. "Have a great day. Sing good and stuff."

Blaine grinned and waved, and backed out of the driveway.

*

"Hey," Blaine said as Kurt climbed into the passenger's seat at the end of the school day. "How's Mercedes doing?"

"Figuring some things out," Kurt replied. "She'll be ok, in the end."

"And how about you?" Blaine wasn't quite sure where everything stood.

"Better," Kurt replied. "A lot better. In fact, this hat is what happens when I get woken up at 10 am by a text from Mike Chang, and realize that I don't have time to deal with my hair."

"I thought it might have been nostalgia," Blaine commented.

"Nostalgia would have included about sixteen more layers of clothes," Kurt smirked.

Blaine grinned. "True."

"Speaking of which..." Kurt looked uncomfortable. "I was pretty exhausted yesterday. And. Umm. I... I'm not quite sure which things actually happened, and which things I dreamed."

 _He dreams about getting hand jobs from me?_ That was Blaine's first thought. But he suppressed it. "What happens in the Prius stays in the Prius," he said instead.

Kurt flushed, but only for a moment while he composed himself. "I hope that doesn't mean that you keep the Bellagio fountain in the back seat," he said. "Or a miniature Elvis chapel in the trunk. My father would have another heart attack if I had some kind of trashy elopement."

Blaine's heart skipped a beat. "No eloping. Noted. Though I'll have you know that the Prius is NOT trashy."

Kurt looked at the cup holder. "Your empty coffee cup says otherwise." He picked it up. "Or not empty. You didn't even drink it?" And then he paused, realizing that the writing described his usual coffee order, not Blaine's. "Um." He glanced at Blaine. "You got me coffee this morning?"

Blaine nodded.

Kurt looked at him. "Thank you." His voice was a bit breathy. But then he changed the subject. "Um. I need to go straight home tonight." Did that sound a little bit apologetic, or was that Blaine's imagination? "I'm cooking. Finn's coming over from the college to celebrate Dad's good health. And that means cooking a LOT of food."

"Tell him hello from the whole glee club," Blaine said, finally putting the car into reverse, so he could get Kurt home at a reasonable time. "And that we wish him the best."

Kurt smiled. "I will. Thank you."

Blaine pulled out of the parking lot and steered through the city streets.

"Having the family dinner tonight means that I'll be free on Friday," Kurt said. "Is the Lima Theatre still doing sing-alongs?"

"I think so," Blaine said. "We don't pay as much attention to them these days, now that you and Rachel are gone. Sam always talks us into going to action movies instead." He replayed the conversation in his head, and decided to add more. "But I'm sure everyone would be excited to go if you want to."

"Sure," Kurt said. "The more, the merrier."

Which... actually wasn't the ideal situation. But it was too late now, especially because Kurt was sure to invite Mercedes and Mike to join them. He braked, then turned onto Kurt's street.

They didn't say anything more until Blaine pulled into Kurt's driveway. "See you tomorrow?"

"Mercedes is going to pick me up," Kurt said. "But I'll see you in the choir room."

"Ok," Blaine replied.

Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt. Before he opened the door, he darted forward and gave Blaine a quick kiss. It was definitely a kiss. And it landed on the lips. "Good night," Kurt said.

"Good night." Blaine's heart was still doing semi-choreographed backflips as the door closed behind Kurt.

As he drove away, he started to sing, without his iPod.

_Love me tender_   
_Love me true..._

*

Kurt sat in front of Blaine in the choir room the next day. Which was how Blaine worked up the courage to call Burt and ask him to talk, about marriage. Because that's what you do when you're not going to elope. You talk to your future parents-in-law. Right? But Kurt and Mike took Mercedes out to dinner to celebrate her artistic integrity, so Kurt never got into the Prius that evening, either. Which was ok, because Blaine was still rehearsing his proposal. Of course, then Blaine totally chickened out when he finally cornered Kurt in the hall the next day. But he had another week. An entire week.

By Friday night, Kurt had gathered quite a crowd to go to the sing-along: _Guys and Dolls_ , which left Kurt and Mercedes and Tina and Artie laughing and dancing in their seats and Unique singing Adelaide's parts at full volume.

"Too bad McKinley didn't choose that for a musical before you graduated," Kurt said as they left the theatre, side by side. "You would have made a horribly charming Sky Masterson."

"Why," Blaine whispered. "Do you want to go to Havana?"

Kurt gave him a flirtaceous smile. "I'll take your Prius instead."

Blaine grinned and opened the passenger door with a flourish, then got into the driver's seat.

"Are we going to Havana, or Vegas?" Kurt teased.

"We can go any place you want." Blaine paused. "Do you need to be home at any particular time?"

Kurt laughed. "You really are going to keep me out until dawn?"

"Well, not until dawn," Blaine said. "But the police usually miss one of the parks until 4 am or so."

Kurt put his hand on top of Blaine's, where it rested on the gear shift. "Then let's go." His voice was half air, and Blaine had to breathe more deeply than usual to get enough oxygen.

Blaine handed his iPod to Kurt and waited.

"You've got a show tunes playlist," Kurt grinned. "Oh, these are good." He thumbed through it and started somewhere in the middle.

Blaine listened to Kurt sing along, not sure whether he regretted having changed the name of the playlist from 'Kurt songs' to something more generic. Especially when _Come What May_ came up. Blaine took a breath, and sang until they pulled into the most secluded, forgotten park in town.

They sat in the car, looking at each other. Kurt's eyes glistened in the dark. And then they leaned across the console, wordlessly, and kissed. First tentative, then harder, tangling tongues and pulling faces toward one seat, then the other. Finally, Kurt's elbow must have hit the recline button, because his seat leaned back, and he pulled Blaine's face along with him.

Blaine released him for a moment. "Is it ok if I join you over there?" he asked. "The steering wheel..."

Kurt laughed. "Come here."

Blaine didn't need any more of an invitation. He scrambled over the console, landing on one of Kurt's legs. "Oh. Hello." Blaine adjusted his position, feeling Kurt's erection nudging into Blaine's hip. They spent a few moments just pressing against each other before their hands started exploring. Kurt had developed all sorts of new muscles, probably from all those NYADA dance classes, and Blaine had to push Kurt's shirt up to examine each of them. Kurt's hands, meanwhile, slipped from Blaine's lower back to his ass. Blaine pressed back against them, feeling Kurt's fingers tightening, then moving up to Blaine's waistband.

Kurt paused with his hands on Blaine's belt.

"Please," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded and loosened the belt. Blaine reached for the console, opened it, and pulled out the lube, then put it in Kurt's hand.

"Um." Kurt paused. "You have lube in your Prius."

"There are condoms there, too." Blaine fumbled for them.

"Condoms?" Kurt shook his head. " _'What happens in the Prius, stays in the Prius,'_ huh? What is this, some kind of socially conscious Vegas sexmobile?"

"It's not like that," Blaine tried to explain. "I just got all that stuff. When I heard you were coming."

Kurt smirked at that.

But Blaine looked down at Kurt, as seriously as he could while he was pressing his groin onto Kurt's hip. "I'll have you know that the Prius is exclusive."

"Ok. So it's a non-trashy, totally exclusive, socially conscious sexmobile." Kurt looked amused.

"Exactly," Blaine replied, and wriggled a little. His pants were still on.

Kurt took the hint and managed to get Blaine's pants open, at least. There wasn't really room to pull them down very far, not with both pairs of legs squeezed into the space between the seat and the glove compartment. So Kurt just unzipped his own pants, and slid lube over both of their cocks, and they thrust against each other until they came.

Afterwards, Blaine rested with his forehead against Kurt's until the stickiness was in danger of turning into a crust, then pulled out some wet wipes and cleaned both of them off. It took a bit more work to roll to the side - Blaine had to pull up his pants in order to scramble back over the console - but soon enough, they were back in their own seats.

And then Blaine started the car and drove Kurt home.

It wasn't until after Kurt said goodnight that Blaine remembered that he still hadn't asked that one crucial question.


	4. Life is very short, and there's no time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Prius is too small to contain a relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:
> 
> We Can Work It Out (Beatles: https://youtu.be/Qyclqo_AV2M)

They had sex in the Prius on Saturday and Sunday nights, too. Different positions each time. They joked about the car, sang a few songs, made out, and screwed. But didn't try to talk about it.

What happens in the Prius, stays in the Prius.

The next week was busy. Hello. Regionals? And also Blaine had to write a paper on the Romantic poets Monday night, which, yes, he had totally procrastinated. Because of romance. Really, it was entirely appropriate. And then there were extra rehearsals every night. Kurt laughed and reminded him that the setlist was ready days in advance, which was actually pretty unusual.

Which meant that Blaine went down the rabbit-hole of proposal planning without talking to Kurt. Not until he already had a ring tucked into his pocket and dinner plans with a pair of adorable aging lesbians.

Afterwards, they sat in the Prius, sucking on the mint candies that came with the bill.

"Ok, that was pretty much the sweetest thing ever," Kurt grinned. "Could you imagine getting engaged after 30 years of going to Breadstix?"

"I can't believe that Breadstix has been doing this for 30 years," Blaine replied. "How old do you think these mints are?"

"I don't really want to think about it," Kurt said. "Just imagine. We've been kissing 30-year-old candy out of each other's mouths all this time." He stuck out his tongue to show off the tiny disk that remained, as if daring Blaine to lean forward and steal it from his mouth, like Blaine usually did.

Blaine reached out and stroked Kurt's hand, instead, so Kurt ducked forward and, with a quick press of lips and swipe of his tongue, stole Blaine's candy.

Blaine looked at him. "We're not a couple..." he said.

Kurt crunched the candy between his teeth. "We're in the Prius," he said. "No labels in the Prius." He smirked at Blaine. "You've got tonight off from practicing?" he asked.

"I think Marley and I have our song down," Blaine replied. "Plus the kids are busy fighting. Who knows what's going to happen at Regionals."

"Some couple will get together, and another one will break up, and there will be yelling and drama and then you'll all sing and dance like the superstars that you are," Kurt shrugged.

"Aren't you the supportive one," Blaine teased.

"You'll be amazing," Kurt said. "Even the new kids."

Blaine nodded. "You want to go home?" he asked. "Or...?"

"Let's take the Prius for a spin," Kurt suggested.

Two typically spectacular orgasms later, they were back in Kurt's driveway.

"Good night," Blaine said.

"Break a leg tomorrow," Kurt replied. "See you in the choir room for the pep talk and the celebration."

*

After the competition - and the unexpected wedding - they had sex in the Prius again. Because, as Kurt reminded Blaine, everyone hooks up at weddings.

Blaine stuck his own ring under the seat. Because whatever happened in the Prius would stay in the Prius. And he had no intention of letting an engagement stay in the Prius.

**

Blaine paused his iPod when Kurt opened the door, then started it again as he started to drive.

_Try to see it my way,  
Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on?  
While you see it your way,  
Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone._

_We can work it out,  
We can work it out._

Kurt joined in for the harmony on the waltz part:

_Life is very short, and there's no time  
For fussing and fighting, my friend._

Kurt picked up the iPod and pressed pause when the song was over. "What brought that on?" he asked.

"We're doing a two-week Beatles unit," Blaine answered. "I put all the early albums on a single playlist, and set it to shuffle. I wanted to see if there was something surprising that I could sing."

Kurt nodded and looked at the list of songs. "They did some of their best collaborations after this song came out," he noted.

"I don't think this one is about a Lennon and McCartney fight," Blaine replied. "Though, yeah, it sure sounds like it is. And, yes, the White Album and Sergeant Pepper and everything were later."

"Well, I expect you'll have fun with it all," Kurt said.

"Watch out," Blaine warned him. "If any of the new kids decides to sing _Blackbird_ next week, I might show up at your loft, all nostalgic and angsty-snuggly." He pulled the car into the park and cut the engine.

"I'll ignore your bird fetish for the moment," Kurt said, "and just remind you that New York is not the Prius."

Blaine knew that perfectly well. "It was nice having you here these few weeks," he said, tilting his seat back.

"It was nice being here," Kurt agreed as he leaned over kiss Blaine, then reached down to loosen Blaine's pants.

Blaine pushed the seat back as far as it could go, then pulled Kurt on top of him. They lay there for a moment, just kissing and moving themselves into position. Kurt tried to fold his legs so they would fit on either side of Blaine, and ended up kicking the horn.

"Shit," Kurt murmured. "There just isn't room for everything in this car."

Blaine nodded. It really was starting to feel restrictive. "The back seat might be easier."

So they crawled back and tried to arrange themselves.

"Just lean against the door," Kurt suggested. "I'll give you a blow job."

Blaine closed his eyes and sat back, enjoying the coolness of the air against his cock, followed by Kurt's warm breath, then lips. And then tongue. And soon everything was blurring together into sensation, and he tightened and then let go.

"I love you," Blaine sighed. And then stopped. Afraid he had gone too far this time. Waiting to see whether Kurt would respond, eventually. Or whether he wouldn't respond at all.

"I love you too," Kurt whispered.

Blaine sat up and nudged Kurt against the other door frame. "Your turn," he said.

When they were done, Blaine leaned against the back of the driver's seat and watched Kurt's heart rate slow. After a few moments, Kurt finally opened his eyes and looked at Blaine. "Don't get me wrong," he said. "I adore your totally non-trashy hybrid-electric sexmobile. But it's a little... confining. Don't you think?"

Blaine tilted his head and tried to figure out whether there were any lines to read between there. "Want to meet for lunch before you leave?" he asked. "On the bleachers? At school? There would be more... space... there."

Kurt's grin came back. "What? The place where you did the number that was so hot that you set a piano on fire when you first came to McKinley?"

"That was Santana's fault," Blaine pointed out.

"You were still hot," Kurt teased. "But yes. I will have a most public picnic with you."

As they drove home, Blaine started planning what he would sing.

***

_Two years later..._

Kurt carefully lay both tuxes in the back seat of the Prius, then climbed into the passenger seat. "We probably shouldn't stop at a rest area on the way to Indiana," he said.

"Definitely not," Blaine agreed.

"But if we wanted to, we could put the tuxes into the trunk," Kurt said. "Unless you really do have an Elvis chapel hidden back there."

Blaine grinned at him. "No eloping," he said, and reached over the console to hold Kurt's hand.

"Definitely not," Kurt agreed, as they pulled onto the highway, heading for the state line and their friends' wedding.

**Author's Note:**

> That took longer than I expected based on the plot bunny. (More chapters, mostly. Also more words.)
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
